


LBaS: Christmas Edition

by jaythewriter



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: AU of an AU? Fuck???, Christmas, Gen, M/M, More deer-related trash, The True Meaning of Christmas is Being a Terrified Millenial With PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaythewriter/pseuds/jaythewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be visiting a family on Christmas, drinking warm things and being merry, it's so positively normal.</p><p>So of course Jay has trouble handling it when one of the most normal things in the world is thrust upon him: taking care of a fussy tired child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LBaS: Christmas Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistresspiece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresspiece/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Left Behind as Static](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075427) by [mistresspiece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresspiece/pseuds/mistresspiece). 



> Another fic based off of the dynamics/storyline in Left Behind as Static by mistresspiece. Sort of a 'I hope this is where things end up going for the characters' fic.
> 
> Content warning for references to past alcoholism.

When was the last time Jay was trapped in a house full of family and cheer?

 

And alcohol, for that matter. The cheer factor has raised exponentially thanks to that.

 

Luckily, he has a little thing called self control on his side, and nonalcoholic egg nog because fucking hot shit damn Brian’s auntie makes amazing egg nog. What is it? Extra vanilla ice cream? Or maybe she made this special for him; she did give him a wink as she stirred up the concoction and said that the cute blue-eyed boy deserves a good treat…

 

Jay curls against the leather couch, clutching his festive snowman mug to his mouth in an attempt to hide the flush of blood running to his face. Back home, he has Tim to remind him every night that he’s beautiful, with the touch of his lips or the brush of his fingers along his nape. Here, it’s as though the entire house of bustling aunts, uncles, grand-somethings, and cousins are enamored with him.

 

It makes sense, he stands out here. Brian’s family is a tan Adonis-type bunch, just like him, with variations of perfect blonde-to-brown hair, sweet button noses, and eyes like calm cups of coffee. Jay, no matter how many Christmas cookies he might shove down his gullet, remains a slim twig of bones with a gradually softening tummy and skin that refuses to absorb the sun’s rays. If the squeaky baby cousins are to be believed, he resembles a fairy blown up to human size.

 

Tim stands out as well, but he’s apparently more of a ‘Disney prince’, according to Brian’s niece. A fairy, a Disney prince, and an Adonis in one house; it’s a shock that they haven’t brought Tuscaloosa down to its knees in the face of their magic and whimsy.

 

Jay blinks and peers into his mug, cautious. Brian’s auntie really didn’t put anything in here, right? He usually doesn’t start having such ridiculous thoughts until long past midnight.

 

Well, it /is/ late. A quick peek at the hand carved cuckoo clock perched over the couch shows that. Today has been a busy, busy affair, talking to near strangers that loved him on principle because he makes their precious Brian happy. Jay spent more time listening than he did chattering, though he did make quite a few of these people laugh with the stories he has of Brian’s ever so Brian-ish antics back home. Singing Queen’s greatest hits in the shower, insisting on cooking full meals for the pair of not-so-adult adults he lives with, breaking into the house by climbing to the open second floor window…

 

Jay has a place here and he likes it. It’s warm, snug, safe. And it has good nonalcoholic eggnog.

 

The fact that Tim can pass through this slowly thinning crowd of people no problem is a big extra plus. He knows these people a tiny bit better than Jay does, but that extra advantage doesn’t mean much when they both get a case of the ‘Oh God’s around unfamiliar crowds eager to know their story.

 

Seeing him now, passing into the living room from the dining room that’s still a mixture of delicious aromas ranging from sweet to savory long after dinner has been finished, he’s holding himself differently. Less high shoulders, no forcibly bared teeth in a smile. His tie is dangling loose around his shoulders, and the kitten hiding under the candy-covered coffee table (who owns that cat again? The mother? Did a cousin bring him?) eyes it before ducking back under the table.

 

“You look a hot mess,” Jay teases, watching Tim fuss over his top buttons and trying to fix them closed again. The other man flips Jay off before dropping onto the safe space beside him, staring at the big screen television playing a Christmas-themed Claymation neither of them can name.

 

“You look about six years old watching this,” Tim teases back, albeit much more monotone. He’s exhausted, that much is clear. Jay leans in, presses his nose into the crook of his neck to soothe him into relaxing.

 

How wonderful it is to be able to nuzzle up to him in front of people without a worry. There are about four others in here, sitting on the carpet and playing with the calico kitten or lounging on the other dark leather couch. Nonetheless, four people is enough to normally scare Jay into keeping his hands to himself.

 

Here, he can kiss, and kiss, and… well, he’ll keep the kissing to a minimum when Tim is nearly dozing off on his shoulder.

 

“You did good today,” Jay gently praises him, petting his mussed hair out of his face. Tim hums against him and takes his hand, holding it to his chest like a child would a teddy bear.

 

“Felt good today,” Tim murmurs under his breath. “I’ll be feeling this for days, like, I can’t believe I spoke to over thirty people today that weren’t customers over the counter at work. But I’m having fun. And I think you did good too.”

 

A pleased flush trickles up Jay’s face and he washes it down with the last swig of eggnog left swishing in his mug. This warm room, all dark reds and faint greens and browns, with the tiniest of Christmas trees shoved in the corner as though Brian’s family was too excited about the rest of Christmas to tend to it-- he could fall asleep.

 

Except, there’s wailing from the kitchen, high-pitched and demanding attention. All heads in the living room turn, including Tim’s. He babbles at the air, asking ‘wazz goin on’. Someone, probably Brian’s uncle, rises from the other couch and wanders into the dining room toward the kitchen. Tim continues to be useless, blinking sleepily and looking at Jay for answers.

 

Shaking his head, Jay takes care in pushing him to lay back against the couch, pressing his palms to his chest. Tim mumbles his protests but the moment the knitted throw blanket draped over the back of the couch falls over his form, he shuts up and closes his eyes.

 

With the sleepy boyfriend attended to, Jay slinks away to investigate the chaos, apologetic to the carpet people as he steps around them and darts out after Brian’s supposed uncle.

 

Out in the kitchen is Brian’s brother and his daughter. She’s clinging to her father’s knee, sobbing loudly, her green poofy skirt sprawled on the ground. He can’t kneel down to help her, holding two dirty china plates in his hands and wearing yellow plastic gloves.

 

“Daddy! It’s too scary to sleep in the attic!” she’s crying to him, and he can only look on, helpless while his daughter twists on the floor. Jay hovers off to the side, inwardly admitting that the sight of a weeping child is just about the most terrifying thing in the world to him nowadays.

 

Better than what it used to be, an innocent tree in the middle of nowhere while the sun is down, but, still. He can walk away from a tree.

 

“Oh, it’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Brian’s uncle soothes, stooping down and managing to maintain his balance despite his creaking knees. He takes the girl beneath the armpits and raises her up, grinning widely. “I’ll help keep the monsters away.”

 

Jay didn’t know he and Tim weren’t the only ones staying the night. He can only hope that Brian’s uncle really does manage to fend off the imaginary monsters, otherwise they’ll all be up the whole night listening to the girl’s crying.

 

He’s about to duck out and return to Tim when he feels eyes on him.

 

Icy dread trickles down his spine as he turns to meet those eyes; the girl’s big eyes fixed on him, staring him down, her chin buried in her great-uncle’s shoulder.

 

“Fairies scare off monsters. I want the fairy,” she says, straight out. Jay shrinks as both pairs of adult eyes fall to him, cracking a strained smile.

 

“I’m sure your uncle’s fine at fighting off monsters too, uh…”

 

Shit, her name, what’s the name? He learned over thirty names in a short amount of time and now those names could belong to anybody. For all he’s certain of, she might be Henrietta or even Isaac.

 

“You and Laney will be fine together, I’m sure,” the uncle (Robert? Dirk?) says as he approaches Jay, handing her off to him. She fits square in his arms, legs looping around him immediately and trapping him in her grip. The uncle (fuck, is /he/ Isaac?) leans in, whispering in Jay’s ear, out of the girl’s hearing range. “Just set her down on the cot in the attic. She falls asleep fast. Don’t worry too much about it.”

 

Jay stammers out a noise he hopes resembles a reasonable protest, but the other two men are already leaving him behind. They’re taking the remaining debris-covered dishes from the stack beside the sink and ignoring him, clearly relieved that the little girl is being dealt with.

 

He might as well be marooned on a vacant island, no one around to see him mentally screaming for help. This is a child. Children are not his strong point. They’re chaotic bundles of energy with an unpredictable will. This child could fucking decide to eat his brain and he’d have no idea that it’s coming.

 

“…So uh, Laney, how’s things?” Jay asks of the blonde. She doesn’t respond; she chooses instead to burrow into his shoulder and whine. That’s helpful. He quietly grits his teeth and moves toward the staircase, leading into the second floor from the kitchen. “Alright then. Bedtime.”

 

This hallway is adorned with photographs of Brian and his brother in years gone past, growing up and looking so very like their younger cousins. They’re shown fishing, climbing rocks, playing football, doing all these things Jay was never interested in as a child but felt he ought to be doing as a young boy. Thank god his mother was never that keen on gender roles.

 

Jay doesn’t have long to think about what Brian might’ve been like in the past. Laney whines again and pushes her nose into his neck, her long fluffy hair tickling him. He tries to ignore the fact that there’s a heavy girl in his arms in favor of tugging down the attic staircase, which is actually far more difficult than one might believe when Jay isn’t the tallest guy in Alabama.

 

“Wanna help me out here?” he breathes out between his teeth, expecting no reply and receiving a soft ‘no’ from the bundle in his arms. He huffs and gives the rope one almighty tug-- and it comes clunking down, louder than he was prepared for. Whipping his head side to side, he spies movement in the darkened bedroom off next to where he’s standing. “I’m sorry!”

 

Someone swears at him from the bed, could be Brian, could be his cousin twice removed. Who knows. Jay ducks his head and clumsily clonks his way up to the attic.

 

It turns out to be a well-furnished area, a storage area gone game room. Posters of washed out rock bands are plastered all over the tilting walls, and next to the staircase is an old boxy television is set up on the floor in front of a pillow-and-blanket nest. Beside the nest is an air hockey table, which sits behind a setup cot, where Jay assumes Laney will be going.

 

He approaches the cot, leaning down and attempting to lay her out on top of the bubble gum pink covers-- to no avail. She maintains an iron grip on him, hanging onto his neck for dear life.

 

“Bedtime,” he reminds her, giving her a pat on the back. She mumbles something to him, digging her sharp little nails into his skin. He winces and pats her again. “What was that?”

 

“Tell me a story,” she whines. “I can’t sleep unless you tell me a story.”

 

Shit. He’d hoped it would be a quick one-two-three thing, but, of course it’s not that simple. Jay takes in a deep shuddery breath before letting go of her entirely, and she releases him at the same time, thank god. She bounces on the cot, letting out a tiny yelp and giggling once she settles.

 

“Uh, what kind of story are you hoping for?” he asks, hopping up onto the cot with her and rifling through his memory of what sorts of stories he was told as a boy. “I know the Three Little Pigs, or, er, Jack and the--”

 

Something comes flying at Jay’s head, too soft to hurt him but he very nearly topples off the bed, heart rushing up into his throat. He realizes a couple of embarrassed seconds late that he was struck by a pillow and that maybe he shouldn’t be so fucking jumpy.

 

“No! I want a Christmas story,” Laney demands of him. She sits up in bed, arms crossed and lips pouting.

 

“I-- uh, okay, that’s fine,” he stumbles over his words before looking to the ceiling, thinking fast as he can. “What? About Santa? Or, uh, Rudolph…” He glances over at her, frowning at her velvet top and skirt. “Don’t you have pajamas or something?”

 

“Story!” she huffs. Funny, she was so cute earlier when she wasn’t sleepy and fussing. The girl’s face softens, though, and she finally begins to settle in, tucking the princess blanket around herself. “Maybe not Rudolph. I like reindeer, though. Make something up about a reindeer.”

 

Jay pales and looks into his lap, clamping his hands together tight. For a writer of fictional stories, he isn’t so good at thinking on his feet. Making up a story? Sure. Give him a few months and he’ll have something ready for you. Right /now/? Well. Shit.

 

Reindeer though.

 

/Deer/.

 

Who says this has to be a complicated story? And who says it can’t be based off of real life?

 

“Alright,” he says, turning to face her and putting on his best smile. “I’ve got a Christmas story for you. One that’ll knock your socks off.”

 

Lacey grins back at him, wiggling her socked feet beneath the covers in reply.

 

_There were two… elves-- once upon a time, I mean. Once upon a time, two elves, uh, existed together. Their names were Jim and Tay._

_They lived together. In their one igloo. They were really good friends, like, really good. They kissed and stuff. They would’ve gotten married but there’s weird legal stuff about that going on in the North Pole right now so they just pretend to be married._

_Every night, Tay would go outside and check on the snow garden. If the wind had messed up the vegetable and flower sculptures he made, he would remake them and then he’d go to bed once it was all finished._

_On Christmas Eve, he was at home celebrating with Ti-- I mean Jim. They had lots of milk and cookies and sat outside to watch Santa Clause go off into the night so he could give gifts to all the good little kids around the world._

_When they packed up their chairs to go back in, Tay said he had to check their garden one more time. Jim kissed his cheek and went inside their igloo, leaving Tay to his chore. Tay went around the back to the igloo, and there, he found his garden was completely fine._

_Except, there was something curled up in the middle of the pretend roses._

_It was brown, tiny, and fuzzy-- a deer, a baby deer. He saw Tay coming close and ‘nyeh’d in fear._

_“It’s okay!” Tay promised him. “I won’t hurt you! Aren’t you cold out here?”_

_The deer nyeh’d again and tucked his nose into his leg, trying to get as much body heat off himself as he could. Tay couldn’t leave him like that. He came closer and picked up the baby deer, holding him close as he went into the igloo._

_“What’s that?” Jim asked when he saw his friend come in. He frowned, seeing that he had a deer with him. When Tay placed the deer down, he ran for the bed in the middle of the igloo and hopped on, like it was for him._

_“It’s my new friend,” Tay told him._

_Jim wasn’t too happy about that. Jim’s a big grumpy guy, he didn’t like it when something came breaking into the house and stealing their bed. Especially when that something was a deer._

_“He can’t stay, how will we sleep?”_

_“He can! He’s warm and soft! And it’s Christmas, Jim,” Tay insists, stomping his foot…_

Jay’s face flushes. This is impossible.

 

“And, uh, he convinces Jim to let Reggie stay, because it’s Christmas and it’d be mean to kick out a baby deer on Christmas, and, did I mention the deer is named Reggie? And…”

 

The sound of Laney’s even breathing is what tells him he doesn’t have to bullshit his way through this anymore. He peers over at her sweet slumbering form, much more favorable than the demanding child that he first placed down on the cot.

 

Releasing the air he hadn’t known he was holding in, he slumps over, practically doubled over in half.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs under his breath.

 

“You rang?”

 

The attic stairs creak as Tim ascends them, capturing Jay’s attention. He has to shake his head of the story before rising to join Tim at his side.

 

“The attic opening woke me up and I came by to listen to your story,” Tim whispers into his neck, drawing him close. Jay fears that he may fall asleep on him and they’ll both fall over, thus waking Laney and ruining all his hard work. Luckily, Tim remains steady on his feet, kissing at his ear and grinning into the warm spot beneath it. “It was cute. And transparent.”

 

“I’m the most original guy on the face of the planet,” Jay murmurs back to him. He returns the kiss to the ear and hovers there, an evenly shaved sideburn brushing his cheek. “Thank you for never wanting kids.”

 

Tim chuckles and squeezes at his waist, bringing him in for a proper embrace.

 

“No. Thank /you/ for never wanting kids either.”

 

“That’s the true meaning of Christmas,” Jay says, bleary and letting whatever comes to mind tumble from his lips. He allows Tim to guide him back downstairs as he continues to babble, the night giving way to sleep and a tummy full of eggnog.

 

He later pretends not to notice the odd look Tim gives him when he quietly says, ‘good night, Jim.’


End file.
